


File 86-2534: History's Blind Eyes

by Memoir (The_Forsaken_Memories_of_Time)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Multi-Fandom, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta!Shuichi, Blood and Gore, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, F/F, F/M, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Murder, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega!Kokichi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Contain Spoilers, Unique Culture, Worldbuilding, betas are a minority, intermission is a switch of character perspective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23659036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Forsaken_Memories_of_Time/pseuds/Memoir
Summary: The world held little regard for a simple beta; they were simply too different from a world mostly consisting of alphas and omegas. It only got worst overtime as betas were shoved to the side until the alphas ruled the world and the omegas deluged in it. A beta's role is a simple soldier, but for how long will an army of them allow history to turn a blind eye from their story?
Relationships: Chabashira Tenko/Yumeno Himiko, Harukawa Maki/Momota Kaito, Iruma Miu/K1-B0, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning(s): [Graphic Gore], [Mass Death]

The first thing that he could remember after the explosion was the sheering heat. The second thing was the sharp jabbing pain of rice-sized, irregularly shaped, and half molten metal embedding themselves on the left side of his body. He doesn't know if it was luck that he was the furthest away from the explosion compared to the rest of his squad – so his eardrums didn't rupture – or it was the highest of misfortunes. With perfect clarity, he can hear the hellish screams of a battlefield full of people sent to their deaths by an arrogant, inexperienced commanding officer. This person refused to listen to the most experienced officer, and Ichigo doesn't know if the warrant officer – his uncle – or the rest of his squad – his family, dammit! – is alright. Or dead.

The shrapnel fucked him up horrifically. He can't see anything from his left eye, and he can barely breathe without gurgling on his blood. Moving hurts. Breathing hurts. Isn't it just more comfortable for him to just obediently lay down and die?

An image of three people flashed before Ichigo's eye, cutting that train of thought immediately. NO! Not yet. He can't die here. He still has far too many promises to keep. Ichigo was, of course, bothered by the pain and blood loss. But his title as the Ultimate Medic among betas wasn't for show. He quickly tugged the white rivet-like, snap-on buttons of his black greatcoat apart and dug through the inner pockets to hopefully find an undamaged medkit.

He felt a relatively undamaged, novel-sized case and quickly took it out with his left hand. Almost missing the small detail that his dominant hand was missing the entirety of its pinky and two-thirds of its ring finger. Almost. That was going to make everything else inconvenient at best and crippling at worst for him.

Ichigo pried the kit apart and revealed a variety of medical equipment, the most important ones of this moment were the lot of needles, hooked and straight, a large roll of thread, several rolls of gauze, and a lighter. He lit the lighter with the mangled left hand and used the right to disinfect a hooked needle. The lighter went out as Ichigo set it aside, and thread took its place. Tie off the thread and suture yourself back to a somewhat functional condition. The first suture on his shredded lower left torso felt numbing. Those that followed afterward felt as if he was grinding broken glass into his intestines. If it wasn't for his high pain tolerance, he knew that he would have died due to shock alone.

The bleeding slowed for now. And now, for the hard part. Ichigo didn't have the time to dress his other wounds, despite the size and severity, not unless he wanted as many people as possible to escape this day alive. He closed his medkit, shoving it back into his coat. Ichigo could feel his body creaking in protest, his chest with its collapsed left lung heaving, as he stood up and worked his jaw and throat to see if anyone was still alive. The call was soft – weak, far too weak – and a low murmuring pitch. The terrorist attack that he and a company of soldiers sent to prevent had left the Narita International Airport up in flames after the initial blast. This mission was the worst failure he has ever had the misfortune to see. Ichigo couldn't help but glare at the cowardly captain that led them to this result as he sat shaking in his pristine white military uniform, not a sign of magenta blood on his clothes.

It was a crime to kill your allies in such a situation, especially for a beta noncommission officer to kill their superior alpha commission officer. But Ichigo didn't feel that the foolish alpha was even worth sacrificing his life for some petty revenge, that didn't mean that Ichigo wasn't the slightest bit tempted.

He heard several muted responses to his call. Far too low pitched to be heard by anyone else but a beta. There couldn't be much more than several hundred. A solemn reminder that the airport visitors and the remaining four-fifths of his military unit lie dead in pieces if the body to his right was any indication. The lower half was nowhere in sight, one of its arms ripped off at the elbow if the loose strands of muscle fibers and bits of protruding bone were to be trusted. The head was barely attached by a particularly stubborn patch of skin on the back of its neck. The corpse – former person – nearly decapitated from the throat.

The body charred beyond recognition, its face crumbling to ash. And Ichigo's stomach sank and churned at the sight and smell of it. It smelled of burnt pork, of blood, of death. Ichigo wanted to heave, but he couldn't. He felt so, so empty.

Still, he has a role to play – he was a medic, after all. He forced himself to run towards the closest call he heard. This time he pitched his voice much higher – he couldn't trust his sight anymore; it was impossible to judge distance with only one functional eye. The sound seemed to echo around the deserted airport to him before bouncing back. He could pin down that there were moving bodies within the rubble. He could hear them shuffling and calling out to him.

The first person he was attempting to rescue was pinned to the ground by several former airport beams. She's speared through the chest and stomach. Ichigo picked up a nearby discarded katana with, subconsciously, his left hand and aimed at the beams before grabbing the sword's handle with a two-handed grip and swinging across. With the excess lengths of metal out of the way, he quickly but carefully extracted the rods speared into the girl – she looked so young, couldn't have been more than sixteen. It must be her first mission! Ichigo refused for it to be the last.

He again dug into his open jacket, pulling out a sheathed tanto, and ripped the sheath off with his teeth. As Ichigo spat out the scabbard, he cut into the broken girl. Her heart was obliterated; there was stomach acid everywhere. He hurriedly sewed the girl's strewed digestive system back together, carving away the damaged parts of the organ system. He desperately dragged a fresh corpse – its head was more a puddle of white and pink – and pried apart its chest to get to its heart. The heart was slightly oversized for the girl as she watched with dull violet eyes. The corpse's heart was still beating as Ichigo cut it out, then turned around to transplant the heart to replace the raven-haired girl's failing one. She was conscious enough for him to rip out some pills to keep her body from destroying the transplanted organ out of his medkit and crammed it down her throat – just for the day, the tablets needed to last only for the day. Ichigo took out a marble-sized object from his coat and pressed it. It emitted a harsh sound, a distress call.

Ichigo stroked the girl's head, smoothing down her matted hair and brushing it out of her face. Her gaze met his with gratitude shining in them. Ichigo abruptly returned to his feet. There were still more he had to do. Even if his movement pulled open the gashes of his arms, legs, and chest – he has to ignore the pain. If he could exchange his life for at least 1000 others, only then would he be willing to rest. That was how the rest of Ichigo's day went.

He dug and dragged as many as he could from the collapsing epicenter of the explosion. Some soldiers were well enough to help him. Some lives were saved, but an overwhelming majority died brutally. Out of the 50,000 or so people in that airport that day, only 5000 left with their lives. It was a day that Japan called the Tragedy.

For Ichigo, the scars that it left on him would never be forgotten. They say that the older and longer you've fought in a war, the easier it is to set aside your heart. What. Bullshit.


	2. An Unfortunate Run-in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning(s): [Attempted Rape]

~~~~~

W̵̨̢̨̡̛̪̣͙̠̪̻̻͉̬̳̫̖̻̎̑̇͛̓͐̈͗̈́̈́̈͘͠͠h̶͓̍͛̆͂̎̂̋̏̃̿̅̀͠ä̶̢͙͙͍̬̯̙͇̰̦͇͖̞̳̐̈̒̌̌t̴̡̞̳̜̩̰͇͍̦̰͜ ̴̧̢͔͙̫̖̳̳̺̹̱̣͖͍̇͊͛̾͒̋̊͘͜͜a̵̡̨̢̢͍͍̲̘̫̩̣̳͓͈̦̗̐ͅṇ̶̨̢͉̟̲͍̟̯̙̫͕̻͓̳̥͒̅̄̃̒͋͌͌̑̐͘ ̵̨̫̯̫̥̥̲̜͍̯͔̜̮͖̅͂̔̊͆̇́͜͜͠͝i̴̢̨̡̛͕̪̙̞̞̫̥̝̺̮̎͛̍̍̅̀͠͝n̷̼͐́̓̔̐͊̽̇͛͊̌̚̚͜͠t̸̢̨̢͔̣͎̦̦̲͈̮͍͒̿̕ͅõ̶̢̻͖̱̞̥͔̝͓͖l̵̨͎̺͚̏̄e̸̢̧̧̹͕̼͚̼̙͒̂̌͋͘͘͜͝r̷̢̛̫̤̹̺͔̗̭̩͂̔̎̄̈́͜ä̷̢̬̭͕̝̰̟̮͉͔̱͗͜͜b̶̖̻̩̜̞̩̜̬͋͜ͅl̴̨̗͉̜̱̝̘͍͚͉̣̦͈͓̭e̶̢͙̺̪͎̳͖̜͉̭̦̤͉̫͖̍̈́́͛̈̋͊̔̕͘ ̴͔̭̝͈̳̳̞̲́̊͂͌̊̔̌͠ͅw̵̛͓͛͊͆̈́̆̀ở̴̛̪͔̼̫̯͉͍̗̇̊͛̿͒͒̇̚͝͝͝ŕ̵̟̤͇̤͈̣͚̼̞̀̃̀͆͜l̴̡̞̪̳͎̺͕̩̦͈͈̉̃͗̈́̍̓͗̈́͝͠d̸̩̪̤̤̱͖̦͙̫̠͔̦̬̬̓̓͐̄̆͒͂͌̎̃͆̏̕͝.̵̨̳̭̱̗̞̱͐̑͐͑̌̎̆̑̒͊̍͘͠͠.̸̡̯̘͔̪̺͉̬̇͌͆́̅̾͐͗̀̅̐̑̚͘͝ͅ.̷̨̘̱̟͖̓͂̋͝ͅ

~~~~~

[12/24/2533, 22:00]

[Tokyo, Japan]

Today was the fifth anniversary of the Tragedy. It could have been the terrorists' effort to turn a day traditionally known for its joy and festivities into a day forever remembered in blood and tears. For one Saihara Shuichi, he still doesn't know if he should be grateful to have been one of the 53 surviving soldiers from that day or guilty. To this day, he still questions why he had been among the few that live to see Christmas, and the only answer Shuichi arrived at is that he had lived out of sheer dumb luck alone.

The night's chilled, windless atmosphere is causing some of the old injuries he got from the Tragedy to ache while Shuichi navigated Tokyo's busy streets. Shuichi absent-mindedly rubbed his bandaged left eye with the palm of his brown-gloved hand after it gave him an incredibly sharp throb. It seemed that eye injuries and blindness were typical among the 53 survivors. He had to wait for several months on end, a couple of months after the Tragedy, to get some surgery to alleviate his eye pain due to a backlog of appointments. Shuichi was almost tempted to get the surgeon to cut the nonfunctional eye out of its socket for all the grief it caused him in those painful months. Of course, Shuichi already knew that unnecessarily removing organs from your body only causes more complications.

He hated being out in the cold, but he tried to dress as warmly as he could. Enclosing him in its immense warmth is a black, wool-blend overcoat with a silver lapel pin of a Japanese serow – the symbol of an army's enlisted member on his left lapel. Under that was another pin of a simple, silver star with a silver bar under it, denoting his rank as a Sergeant. Under the coat is a similarly colored and fabricated waistcoat over a simple white dress shirt, followed by a pair of black woolen pants tucked into leathery brown boots.

Shuichi took his left hand away from the bandaged eye and reached up to readjust the black, gray-banded fedora on his head to better shield his vision from the reflected UV rays of the freshly fallen snow. Shuichi then reached down to tug the heavy brown scarf around his neck up to his cheeks. Even despite his distaste for the cold, as an enlisted member of the Japan Ground Self-Defense Force, or JGSD, Shuichi still has his civilian responsibility to act as Japan's policing force while not on active duty. Still, he was glad that the day was coming to an end soon so that he could go back home and spend the rest of the year with family; the Christmas Eve shifts were always the most chaotic with shoppers scurrying about to buy last-minute gifts.

Shuichi silently noted that it was pretty uneventful compared to most of his previous Christmas shifts before he heard the shifting of crystalline powder and clicking. That was a noise that Shuichi never wanted to hear again for the rest of his life, but it would hardly be the last time he heard it because of his occupation.

Shuichi spun on his heels and ran as fast as he was able to, weaving between the crowds of people and towards the direction of the sound – Tokyo's more abandoned alleyways. Bomb. Someone was making a bomb, and Shuichi didn't know which type it was. Depending on the situation, it could take out a block from Tokyo or the entire metropolis if he wasn't careful. Shuichi reached into his overcoat and pulled out a small hand radio clipped onto his brown belt on his left and pulled a small pistol from the strapped holster on his right side.

[This is Sergeant Saihara reporting: Code 0-105. Repeat: Code 0-105. Proceeding with caution and cease communication with me until otherwise contacted.]

Shuichi jammed the hand radio back onto its clip with the last words leaving his mouth before taking out his pistol's clip, revealing a glowing yellow crystal. He tucked the clip into a compartment on his belt then took out another clip. This time, the jewel had a harsh white glow that Shuichi loaded into the pistol. Completely shielding the light from the dark alleys.

Shuichi slowed his pace before stopping. He closed his eye and listened carefully: four heartbeats not very far from his current location. One of these heartbeats was separate from the other three, but Shuichi isn't going to risk approaching it yet. He took a shaky breath as he opened his eye, trying to steady his own heart before proceeding with much quieter footsteps.

Shuichi made sure to listen to the conversation between all parties he has identified, being careful not to crunch the snow beneath his boots while keeping his finger on the trigger of his pistol. Shuichi slid along the dark shadows cast by the cloudy winter night and the many objects in the alleys, crawling under a parked truck a good 5 meters away from the three silhouettes he could see.

"Do you really think it's a good idea to be mixing that here? You could blow us sky-high with that," a thin figure asked, their voice distorted far too much by the unmistakable half black, half white bear mask of a Remnant of Despair.

A retort answered the question from the thin figure; that person towered over the first figure as he stood up, dusting his hands off as his arms bulging with muscle strained the fabric of his jacket. "Shut up! We have to strike by midnight, and if it wasn't for someone, I would've had the bombs ready hours ago. Just. Keep a lookout."

"Do as the Boss tells ya. S'not like you put in any effort today. Least ya could do is shut yer yap and watch my back!" The last figure finally spoke out, the smallest of them, easily half the thin one's height.

Three... yet no sign of a fourth, even when Shuichi could easily hear their heartbeat from behind the dumpster closest to the three terrorists. It seemed to the three that they were the only ones there. It seemed suspicious, but Shuichi couldn't act yet.

"Hey, hey. Boss, what are we going to do with these bombs?" the thin Remnant asked as they shuffled through the various trash bags and debris away from the newly minted bombs.

"Why...spread Despair. Isn't that always the answer?" the burly figure answered. "But if you want me to be more specific, then it's to bomb the Ouma Corporation."

The smallest one quirked their head to a slight angle. "Ya mean the omega-ran corporation? Why that, Boss?" They then scratched at the back of their neck.

"The world is intolerable," their Boss answered. "The little bitch bastard that runs the number one company is getting in my way. If the Remnants of Despair take the fall, I can get away with this scot-free."

Shuichi could hear the fourth heartbeat a good six meters from him quicken in fright after the Boss revealed their motive. So it seemed that the fourth is not a part of the Remnants of Despair in the slightest. However, it just made the situation exponentially more dangerous if there's an innocent third party involved. Shuichi did not want to see shit hit the fan if the fourth individual manages to meet an unfortunate fate. He hoped this one time that the fourth person would be wise enough to stay put.

*Clang*

But since when had Shuichi ever gotten a break.

A little tin can fell – more like knocked over – and a tiny, black hooded figure bolted from behind the dumpster and ran to the opposite direction that Shuichi is in. The smallest and biggest Remnants quickly flew after as the Boss barked after the thin one to watch after the bombs. Shuichi rolled out from underneath the truck, aimed, and fired the pistol in his hand at the head of the thin Remnant. There was a quiet, high-pitched whir and a very brief flash of white before the Remnant fell down to the ground with a dull thump – a small, marble-sized hole sheered right between the eyes of the mask. Shuichi pulled a tanto strapped to the left side of his belt and made sure to slit the throat of the probable corpse – to make sure it is, indeed, a corpse.

Shuichi left the bomb where they were – he didn't have the time to waste for that – and charged after the other three. Shuichi knew in the back of his mind that the bombs and the corpse will be retrieved.

The tight turns of the alleys, combined with the half-melted snow's slippery surface, did not make chasing after them easy, but it left tracks. Shuichi grounded his heels into the asphalt as hard as he could, turning on a dime as the footprints twisted in on itself like a mocking representation of a pretzel. But the worst part was that he could hear the person being caught and the sound of thrashing. He could hear a zipper unzipping and the desperate begging of a young male to stop. It wasn't hard to imagine what's happening.

There! The burly one was holding down the hooded boy and cutting off his black hoodie with a switchblade, his dick unbounded from his pants and boxer, while the smallest one was sliding the boy's sweatpants off. Shuichi took aim once again and fired three shots in quick secession. The smallest one fell to the ground after a light bullet struck, but the other two shots missed the mark. The bright flashes quickly grabbed the attention of the remaining two people in the alley. The last Remnant let go of the boy and charged straight at Shuichi.

Shuichi could only inwardly cuss that he only has one eye, thereby affecting his accuracy as he shoved the gun back into its holster and transferred the knife into his better hand. The Boss attempted to stab Shuichi's chest. The soldier immediately sidestepped the extended arm as if Shuichi saw it in slow motion and rammed his knife right under where Shuichi knew the sternum to be with the blade facing downwards.

Shuichi pulled down and twisted it to the side, putting nearly his entire weight on the handle. He watched as the knife's blade, buried entirely into the flesh, was dragged down and out from the right flank of the body before him. Shuichi watched as the Boss' guts hit the ground's pavement with a visceral splat, splattering and soaking the white snow in bright pink.

Shuichi did not trust a terrorist as suicidal as a Remnant of Despair to not have a bomb implanted somewhere on their body to detonate. So, he jammed his tanto right back into his enemy's neck, ducking under their flailing arms and sawed through their spine. The last body finally fell. A nearly decapitated body in which Shuichi could still see the veins and arteries pulse in vain – how disgusting.

Shuichi soon enough turned his attention back on the only living person in the alley with him. He doesn't know what age the boy was. From the voice tone and the size of their body, he could only guess a young teenager. All he knew was that the boy was shaking – from fear or from the cold, that hardly mattered. Shuichi shrugged off his overcoat and wrapped it around the boy, startling him enough to finally look up at Shuichi. Large, fearfully glazed, violet eyes met his own dull golden grey.

The eyes blinked at him in shock as Shuichi bent down to pick him up bridal style – thankful for once again that blood was hard to pick out from darker clothing. Shuichi couldn't help but look back to the bodies of the people he killed, and the male in his arms followed his gaze. He jolted and tensed up but otherwise did not struggle in Shuichi's grip. There were no words left to say.

~~~~~

Arriving at a general hospital with blood showing at the cuffs of his white shirt was a feeling that Shuichi was unfortunately used to, accusatory glares included. In his arms, the male made no movement to get out of his grip earlier as they went from the abandoned alleys to the busier streets. Despite how tense the boy in his arms was throughout most of the trip, Shuichi already suspected why. The right ankle seemed warped, and the beginning of a dark bruise could be seen.

Still, it was uncomfortable carrying such a stiff person for the better part of 10 minutes. The person in his arms only recently decided not to be a statue, actually relaxing into Shuichi's hold this time. He gave the nurse his report of what had happened and the injuries that he could see from the boy before attempting to hand him off to a nurse...only it seemed that he wouldn't let go. If this was a sign of how the coming year would be for Shuichi, he could already feel an oncoming headache.


	3. Intermission 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning(s): [Mention Attempted Rape]

Kokichi did not trust anyone working in the hospital to treat his broken ankle. Especially when he already knew that one of the Remnants of Despair that tried to rape him had people working in the general hospitals – he was a medical equipment supplier. It's also not very fun having a heavy steel trash lid thrown at his leg.

Those damned people that had him pinned down were undoubtedly alphas; even with their scents dampened by suppressors, their smell was far too pungent up close for Kokichi to miss. He couldn't help but shiver when the thought crossed his mind if that beta soldier didn't come in when he did. The Remnants would have ripped him open from the inside-out and used his body as a fleshlight with his blood as stand-in lube. They would have defiled then killed him. He doesn't doubt that they'd make him disappear before dealing with his family's company, the Ouma corporation – or more fondly referred to as DICE.

His eyes couldn't help but flick to the beta, who is now working on Kokichi's cast. He was amazed to see that such an unassuming and straightforward soldier would have the knowledge to painlessly cut into his ankle and set all the broken bones straight. It was interesting. Although Kokichi didn't let that show on his face, he was still in the presence of a killer. But...

"So~ mister tall, dark, and suspicious – what were you doing creeping around the alleys like a rapist? At least introduce yourself before kidnapping me."

That didn't mean he wasn't open to some questions.

The dark-clothed beta seemed to frown at the lilting tone that the omega used, almost looking confused at how the person in front of him could act as if what nearly happened in the alley never occurred. It was hard to tell when Kokichi couldn't see his face or even smell the change in his scent – if he had one. "Saihara Shuichi; I was on patrol yesterday," was the answer from the beta. In such a quiet and soft voice, Kokichi almost didn't hear him over the rustling of the purple fiberglass cast roll Shuichi was setting down in his medical kit.

"I heard some suspicious sounds that I believed needed to be checked out. You know the rest of the story," Shuichi decided to continue, all so foolishly blunt and honest.

Kokichi wasn't satisfied with Shuichi's answer to his questions, and he was sure that the soldier wouldn't kill him if he pushed a bit harder for information. "Okay, but Saihara-chan~ why'd you have to go and murder them? Don't police officers have handcuffs?" he asked with an overly saccharine smile on his face.

Shuichi paused – Kokichi knows it's from the overly familiar way that he spoke to him, that was expected. What he didn't expect was for the soldier to simply roll with the impolite honorific and replied, "All Remnants of Despairs were ordered worldwide to be killed on sight by any military personnel."

So formal! Too stiff! Talking to this guy was like talking to a brick wall. Now Kokichi was determined to get a reaction out of the super-serious soldier in front of him. Most soldiers were very transparent in how they reacted, almost as if they were – no, definitely – exaggerating. He doesn't know much about betas at all. They were a boring lot. Betas were easy to read and control, so Kokichi never really investigated what was going on about them.

Shuichi was checking over the cast he made Kokichi, checking for any debris on it before gently setting Kokichi's right leg down. He then glanced up at Kokichi for a moment, and whatever he saw in Kokichi's eyes made him settle in his chair, although his back was ramrod straight. It seemed that he was open to more questions, but Kokichi felt like Shuichi looked straight through him. It was an uncomfortable feeling, something he heard so many of his underlings complain about when working with betas.

This conversation was so uncomfortable with only him asking questions and Shuichi answering him with a single sentence at best. That has got to go.

"So~ mister SSS," Kokichi lazily drawled. "Aren't you curious about what I was up to?"

The nickname finally got Shuichi to react. "SSS?" he quietly asked with his head perked slightly up, still not enough to see his eye.

"Mister super-serious soldier. Get with the program!" Kokichi huffed, puffing out his cheeks childishly. "Don't keep the Ultimate Supreme Leader of DICE waiting."

Shuichi nodded, although he seemed to be acknowledging something different from Kokichi's supposed impatience. "The nurses already confirmed that you're Ouma Kokichi, the CEO of DICE whose company specializes in medical equipment and gag items – also famously known to be run exclusively by omegas. I could infer why Ouma-san was in the alley. You were watching your enemies, and you got caught because you knocked over a tin can."

"Wow! You sure you're not a detective or something, Saihara-chan? But are you sure~ you're not a rapist disguised as a soldier? You seem to know an awful lot about me." Kokichi snickered out, even as his eyes narrowed in newly rekindled suspicion.

"Your information is hardly a secret," Shuichi retorted, his voice the slightest bit louder and harsher this time. How unexpected. Kokichi completely expected the beta to be a doormat like the rest of his dynamic and take the insult without the slightest bit of retribution, no matter how small. "The only thing to keep in mind is whether such information in the media is truths or lies," he continued, lifting his head all the way so that Kokichi could finally see Shuichi's eye.

He was stunned silent. The shade was gorgeous in a muted sort of way, a cross between hardened steel and soft gold. He couldn't read everything in Shuichi's eye, but he got the impression that there was far more to discover. It tickled Kokichi's curiosity.

Kokichi wanted to know more about this mysterious stranger in front of him, but before he could delve further, a tall green-haired man entered the room. He wore a white suit with a black dress shirt and a checkered patterned tie, signifying his association with DICE.

"Hey," he casually greeted the two from the doorframe before addressing Shuichi. "My name is Amami Rantaro."

Shuichi swiveled his head in Rantaro's direction, breaking the intense bout of eye contact with Kokichi. "I assumed that you're here to pick up Ouma-san, Amami-san? Ouma-san should be fine, but he will need some crutches to walk for the next five weeks."

"Hey, hey, Amami-chan!" Kokichi excitedly chirped, waving his arm cheerfully. "You're here to pick me up again, mister Ultimate Big Brother~?"

"Kokichi, you know that isn't my real ultimate," Rantaro sighed in the same old mixture of fondness and exasperation Kokichi was used to, shaking his head in playful disappointment with a small smile on his face. Then his smile dropped as quickly as it came when he asked Shuichi, "What happened to him?"

Shuichi didn't answer Rantaro immediately. Kokichi figured it was to find a polite and softer way to state that two people attempted rape on what Shuichi presumes to be Rantaro's little brother-figure. "Ouma-san was chased down and attack after he was discovered eavesdropping," he started slowly. "They broke his ankle in the pursuit and were undressing him before I arrived at the scene and neutralized them."

Huh? Strange. Shuichi didn't mention anything about what they were making and what they planned to do with the bombs. Kokichi had assumed that betas were inherently subservient and honest to a fault. It was a global stereotype that they couldn't keep a secret even if they tried. Still, Shuichi's implications hung heavy in the air. It was suffocating. Shuichi seemed to have thought so too as he slowly got up from his chair with a piece of lingering advice before leaving, "Make sure to take Ouma-san to a trusted medical facility to have him rechecked." Yet Kokichi couldn't help but feel that he was also running away from further questioning on why he decided to...not precisely lie, but close enough to it.

Rantaro only stared at Kokichi afterward. There was a tense silence between them this time. Only this time, Rantaro's disappointment wasn't a lie. Rantaro seemed like he wanted to scold Kokichi for the smaller's recklessness but decided to save that for later...after they arrive safely at DICE's Headquarters.

~~~~~

After another one of Rantaro's scolding of a lifetime, he still kindly obliged Kokichi's sudden request to investigate betas. He only raised his eyebrows with an unspoken question of why before Kokichi dismissed it with a grandiose lie of: "After Saihara-chan gallantly rescued me, I couldn't help but fall so deeply in love at first sight. I want to know more about my beloved Saihara-chan."

The lie was that Kokichi felt love about the silent soldier, but the truth was that he was interested. The news on the TV of Rantaro's hovercar reported that there were the bodies of two alphas in the uniforms classically worn by the Remnants of Despairs discovered in one of Tokyo's abandoned alleys. They made no mention of the third person Kokichi saw or the bombs they were making. Now that Kokichi thought about it, Shuichi also didn't mention explosives at all in their conversation. Even though he was sure that Shuichi knew, how else could he have gotten at the scene of the crime so fast without anything tragic happening?

The world always insisted that the military's enlisted portion was unintelligent, that betas were only suitable for combat with a select few of them with a MOS, military occupational specialty. They were untrustworthy in keeping national secrets because of how transparent betas are traditionally known to be. But Saihara Shuichi contradicted everything the Kokichi was taught about betas. There was a deep intelligence when Kokichi looked into his eye, and he completely circled the topic of the bombs until he slipped up reporting to Rantaro.

The little, small detail made Kokichi curious enough to start browsing through the many web articles he seen about the global beta military and the Remnants of Despairs, only this time in a much different light.

~~~~~

Is the Beta Military Too Powerful?

People wake the hell up! The betas fight the Remnants of Despairs regularly now. Some are omegas, some are betas too, but most of them are alphas. Alphas! And they kill the people who are genetically more robust than they are like it's nothing. Like these alpha Remnants are children. And we treat these people like garbage. What happens when they finally decided it's not worth being loyal? What happens if they turn their strength on us?

They were always an inferior dynamic. Betas can't produce as many children as the omegas, nor are they as fast or smart as omegas. They aren't as strong or sturdy as alphas, and they aren't good leaders. Yet they mow down armies of terrorists, often dismantling their plans at the seams. Don't you find that a little suspicious?

We should exterminate them! They're dangerous, and even though they may act transparently: how can we be sure that that's the truth? For all we know, they can be the worst liars that society has ever seen. They can't be trusted. They should go extinct.

~~~~~

Loyalty was Never the Question

We've fought for you, we've bled for you, and we've died for you. Now is the time that you pay our loyalty with distrust. Even as the Remnants of Despairs, a global threat to all civilization, attempts to undermine our way of life as it stands? How do we, the enlisted, know that it isn't the higher corporate alphas working amongst us as Remnants to cast doubt onto us?

What do you believe will happen if next to 99 percent of the entire military force across the globe is eliminated? Complete and utter destruction is your answer. I will say, society has not been very kind to the humble beta. However, it doesn't matter whether the submissive beta resents you. We are still a part of your society, whether you can accept that, and it is for our loved ones that live within your nations that we fight.

We do not fight for you. You are just collateral survivors in our efforts to protect our families and friends that we choose to continue this farce. We had no other place to go to otherwise. In the end, our loyalty was never the question. What is in question is how far your fear and superiority complex will test our place in your society because I will assure you that we won't be around to fix your mistakes when that time comes.

~~~~~

There’s so much distrust and unrest brewing under the surface. It was only now that it hit Kokichi how unfairly society treats the beta minority. They did have no other place than the military. There was simply no alternative occupational path for them.

What was Shuichi hiding? What were the betas hiding? Kokichi wanted to know! But. He couldn't recklessly charge if the betas were as good at keeping secrets as he suspects, then they were also equally good at ensuring that the knowledge of its existence was erased. Oh god! What if Shuichi reports his slip-up to his superiors? They would for sure erase him. He has got to get Shuichi to be quiet about that, but how?

Kokichi browsed through more pages within the internet, trying his best to find a solution before he stumbled on to it with an ad pop-up. The ad read: "Beta Contract." It states that every soldier with a rank title of Sergeant or Petty Officer, better known to be between the age of 21 to 40, was on the roster to be purchased as an all-purpose servant. They'd be automatically retired from that contract or the list if they're ever promoted to Warrant Officer if the deal wasn't canceled by the original contractor.

Kokichi doesn't remember what Shuichi's rank pin on his coat was after he took it back in the hospital room, but he still typed in Shuichi's full name in hopes that he could seal a contract between them to ensure Shuichi's silence. If he was lucky, Kokichi might also be able to pry some information from Shuichi as well.

The database took a couple of seconds to load – for Kokichi, it felt like forever – but Shuichi's profile did pop up.

Saihara Shuichi

Gender: Male

Age: 24

Rank: Sergeant; Promotion Pending

MOS: 68W (Combat Medic Specialist)

Do you wish to seal a contract with this soldier?

** Yes ** /No


	4. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Warframe - We All Lift Together; Link - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPTCq3LiZSE

After leaving the general hospital and Kokichi behind, hoping that this is the last time they'd meet, Shuichi made his way to the many entrances to Tokyo's subways. It was brightly lit and crowded as ever. Of course, Shuichi always knew there are shady corners that the light never quite reaches, and people tend to avoid places with low visibility.

It was usually the opposite for him, and betas in general, because his eyesight was much more sensitive than what the rest of the 77 percent or so majority deemed "normal." He could see farther than most. He could also see the world about seven times brighter. The world was always more vividly colored to him than it had been for his peers during childhood. It was also an annoyance when holiday festivities come out with their migraine-inducing, obnoxiously bright lights.

With a relieved sigh, Shuichi finally found himself in a much dimmer area. It wasn't as well kept as the more active lines because it saw less traffic. Shuichi made a quick, surveying glance around and saw that only a handful of people were waiting for the next train to come rushing to the station. Their faces shadowed with only the lights of their phone to color them. Perfect. 

As the station announced the upcoming train's approach, before anyone could look up from their phones, Shuichi casually walked over to the platform's edge and jumped into the tracks. The train barrelled overhead Shuichi with a good ten centimeters of clearance from the top of his hat where Shuichi was crouching. There was a space about a meter tall under all the subways' railings when multiple lines temporarily shut down for maintenance purposes.

As the train stopped, Shuichi tapped his serow pin in a certain rhythm before pulling his hand away. He experimentally placed his hand on the bottom of the subway and tugged; it stayed on. He then tugged a bit harder, and his hand came off. Satisfied with his self-imposed safety check, Shuichi placed both his palms on the subway and swung his legs, planting his feet firmly on the surface.

The station's announcement came on again, stating that the train would depart soon before Shuichi heard the subway's doors overhead hissed closed. It floated gently over its rails before it began to lurch forward sluggishly, but with the growing hums of the train's internal locomotives, it quickly picked up speed. Soon enough, it was barreling along the tunnels at 80 kilometers per hour.

The sound of rushing air and the loud hums of the train above him weren't enough to distract Shuichi from what happened earlier today. It has him worried. The Remnants of Despair are cruel and underhanded people, but never before has Shuichi seen such an overt display of one of their own dynamic. He saw the swelling knot of the alpha attempting to rape Kokichi, and he couldn't make sense of what he saw. 

The Remnants of Despair would sooner commit suicide than give off any concrete information. After all, none of the original terrorists of the Tragedy survived. Whether it was by the explosion or by the crushed cyanide capsules in perfectly intact bodies, there was no evidence left behind. No note, no hand radio. Nothing.

For now, Shuichi could only put the mystery in the back of his mind. Without any clues, it was useless to keep pondering. It seemed that his attention returned at a good time for Shuichi as the subway was approaching a sharp turn, forcing it to slow its pace. Shuichi freed his right hand from the train with a good tug and tapped out another specific rhythm on his pin. Suddenly, Shuichi was detached from the train and quickly flipped over to land on his hands and knees. The landing was as rough as always.

As the subway continued to pass him over, Shuichi crawled over to the panel, it softly pulsed at one of its corners in response to his pins. Tucking his hand under the pulsating edge, Shuichi pried it off to reveal a hole with a metal ladder leading down into a dark abyss. He shifted his body into the hole and moved the panel to cover his descent, giving a sharp pull downwards on the handle on the back of it until he heard a soft click.

Shuichi didn't have the patience right now to climb down the rungs of the ladder one-by-one. He grabbed it by the two lateral beams and slid his way down the hole until he arrived at a small cave that wasn't over eight tatami mats. It was dim, with the only light source coming from under one of the stalagmites on the ground. Shuichi walked over to it and pressed the left lapel of his overcoat onto it, making sure that both the serow and sergeant pins touched it. 

The stalagmite then levitated off the ground, revealing its mirrored shape underneath. It slotted perfectly into a crevice in the ceiling and created an illusion of a stalactite. The hole that was left behind by the rock was glowing a soft, dim yellow. It looked more like a portal to heaven. There was no hesitation in his heart as Shuichi lept into the pit and disappeared into the light.

~~~~~

[12/25/2533, 4:24]

[Five kilometers under Tokyo; Mementos]

The fall by itself wasn't long. It took Shuichi about a minute and a half, mostly because the levitational panels worked hard at slowing and eventually completely halting his freefall around the fourth-kilometer mark.

A small, relieved smile crossed Shuichi's face as his bunched up shoulders finally relaxed when he was greeted with the ever-present song and sounds of people at work. The sound of metal etching into stone echoed in this hidden city deep under the capital of Japan. 

_ Cold: the air and water flowing. _

_ Hard: the land we call our home. _

_ Push to keep the dark from coming, _

_ Feel the weight of what we owe. _

He hummed along with the song before joining along. The air of the artificial caverns – the work of generations worth of blood, sweat, and secrecy – was a much better temperature than the world above them currently. Although it usually remained a chilly ten-degree Celsius all year round. Well...asides from the areas used for agriculture. Those were heated using the Earth's natural geothermal heat.

_ This: the song of sons and daughters, _

_ Hide the heart of who we are. _

_ Making peace to build our future, _

_ Strong, united, working 'till we fall. _

The city hardly used any concrete or steel in its construction for many historical reasons that Shuichi, as tired as he was, couldn't recall. Everything was etched into bedrock: from the railings above his head that fired off bullet-shaped supply carriers across the city to apartments and markets on the ground.

_ Cold: the air and water flowing. _

_ Hard: the land we call our home. _

_ Push to keep the dark from coming, _

_ Feel the weight of what we owe. _

His feet naturally carried him back to his apartment on muscle-memory, even as his tired mind wandered and indulged in the atmosphere of his hometown. The realization that he was at his doorsteps caused his voice to peter out sheepishly until the jangle of his keys drowned out the dying hum. The door opened slowly into a modest living room with a kitchenette and dining area on one side and the doors to the bedroom and bathroom on the other. It was humble and cramped, but it was home.

_ This: the song of sons and daughters, _

_ Hide the heart of who we are. _

_ Making peace to build our future, _

_ Strong, united, working 'till we fall _ .

He didn't expect to see the still awake forms of three other people on the L-shaped couch in the living room. Three pairs of eyes lit up at the sight of Shuichi before three separate greetings flew at him.

"You're back." "Nii-san, welcome home!" "Welcome..."

_ And we all lift, _

_ and we're all adrift together, together. _

_ Through the cold mist, _

_ 'till we're lifeless together, together. _

He offered them a smile before shutting the door behind him, quieting the song outside. "I'm home," he greeted them as he pulled off his boots and slipped his feet into a pair of fuzzy black slippers by the door. It may not look like it or even be officially documented, but the group was like siblings. And they shared this tiny apartment with each other.

The matter-of-fact greeting came from none other than Harukawa Maki: a woman with chestnut hair and eyes the color of dried blood. She reached up to Shuichi's ear in height and was the second eldest behind Shuichi himself. The enthusiastic, puppy-like welcome came from the younger brother figure of Iidabashi Kibou: a boy with snow-white hair and glinting blue eyes who wasn't much shorter than Maki. And the tired but happy mumbling was from the youngest of the four, Yumeno Himiko: a girl with fiery red hair and lazy orange eyes that only made it up to Shuichi's neck in height.

"Why are you three not asleep yet?" Shuichi questioned as he took off his hat and hung it on the coat rack to his right. The fedora settling onto its hook by a black baseball cap with three white stripes on the back right side. "You even kept Himiko awake."

Maki huffed slightly, "We were waiting for you to come home, dumbass." Her frown lessened, and her glare softened. "What happened?"

Shuichi shuffled over to the couch and sat down at Himiko's right, to which he promptly lifted his left arm and allowed her to settle into a more comfortable position. Her eyes were closed, but he knew damn well that she was listening just as attentively as Maki and Kibou were. He hesitated to tell them what – who he encountered earlier today. 

Kibou silently poked Shuichi at his right side. "You're never usually late for Christmas Eve."

"I…ran into some Despairs just as the day was ending. I heard them making a bomb, and I couldn't let it go," Shuichi admitted, but he knew his statements were incomplete. They always were.

The three younger siblings gave each other a _look_ , and somethings seemed to pass between them. For whatever reason, they decided not to press further for now. Himiko decided to crawl onto Shuichi's lap, opening his left for Maki to settle, while Kibou pushed himself closer to Shuichi's right. For now, the siblings piled onto their eldest.

It warmed his heart as much as it soothed his cold, aching wounds. With the soft sounds of his younger siblings' breathing growing slower, their minds finally giving in to sleep, Shuichi closed his eyes.


	5. Separation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: PTSD Flashbacks

It wasn't unusual for Shuichi to be the first one awake. When he opened his eyes, the clock hanging on the dining area wall told him that it was 12:15. A little less than six hours of sleep. There was the weight of three bodies on him that he would've tried to squirm out of if he had any escape exits that wouldn't wake at least one of them. He resigned himself with a soft exhale and nudged Maki awake.

"Haru," Shuichi whispered, tapping Maki gently with his elbow. "Wake up, Haru."

Her face scrunched up unpleasantly, and her eyes opened with a glare. Shuichi stroked her head apologetically as he asked, "Can you let me up?" Maki shuffled away from Shuichi, leaning her back against the armrest before closing her eyes again. Shuichi then moved Kibou until his younger brother's back is supported by the sofa. He finally stood up with Himiko in his arms before turning back to the couch and laying her down.

Shuichi took some of his casual clothes before heading off to the bathroom to wash up and change his bandages. He recently lost his eyepatch and used bandages as a temporary replacement until the custom patch was finished by the end of the year. It was a quick and easy process washing his face and body before dressing. Of course, he was disquieted by the numerous scars that littered his body. Some particularly nasty surgical scars that traced around his left limbs tend to bother him the most. They'd throb sometimes. Painfully so at times.

But there was one set of scars that he wasn't as willing to see, and by a careless accident, he glanced up at the mirror and caught sight of them when he was brushing his teeth. He shouldn't have forgotten the bandages again.

There were pink fissures around his left eye. It pulled at his skin and muscles, forcing the eye into a perpetual squint. The scars even broke up his eyebrow into three uneven patches. The eye itself fared no better, entirely fogged over by a sickly milk-white with only the barest hint of his eye color outlining the outer circumference of his iris.

He hated looking at his scars, but this one has always been an incredibly sore spot. After receiving these scars, no one wanted to look him in the eye. Everyone was far too disturbed to look solely into a single eye or be confronted with two mismatched ones. These were scars he couldn't hide and cover as readily as the rest – an endless reminder of what was lost during the Tragedy.

Even now, he could still feel the heat from the explosion and the shards embedded into his body. Even now, Shuichi is haunted by the echoes of weakening pleas before silence overtook the memory. Dead silence. He hated it.

H̵͙͍͖͆͋a̵̪̙̓̾͊͜t̴̪̼̻͌͌͌e̴͖͎͓̓̓̿d̵̞͚̠̒͝ ḯ̵̞͇͕̐̔ẗ̵̝͓͕́́͒.̴͚͎͔͋͋̕ H̴̠̦͎͆͐͌a̵̙̦̦͒̓̔t̵͎͍͎́̾̚e̸̢̺͚̾̚͝d̵̢̦͍̀̿ i̸̞͖̓͆͜͝t̴̝̫͉͌͘͘.̸̢̙̻̔̓͋ H̵̠̦̞͐̐̀à̵͍͙̺͐̿t̴͉͍̻͌̈́̾e̵̘͚̼̐̾͒d̴̘͇͔̿̿ i̵͓͙͙̐̈́̽t̵̝̫͕̀̀̈́.̵̡͎̈́͑͝ H̵̢̪͙͒̚͠a̵̦̠̺͌͛ẗ̸͚͔͚́͘͠e̴̝͚̔̾̕d̴͉͉̻̐̈́͘ i̸͔̙͖͒͆͘t̸̘͚̫͌̒͝.̸͇̟͆́̒͜ H̴͔̞̺͋͠a̵͇̟̠͠͠t̸̘̼̼͊̓́e̴̢͚̺͑͒͛d̴̡̢͍͛͒͝ i̸̢͙͉̽̓t̸̠̫͕͌́͝.̴͔̠̺̈́̓̀ H̵̦͓͉͊̐́a̵̡͚͕̿͐t̸̠̘͇̓̕͝e̵̼͉̪̔̒̓d̴̪̝̼̽͆͝ i̴̘̻͙̾̚̚ț̸̺͔̓̿̐.̵̡͖̻͆̽̕ H̸̫͔͇͒̀̔a̸̘̫̘̐̓͝t̸̞͇͍͊͑͝ë̸̫͙̠́̓̔d̴̡͖̻̐̐̕ i̸͕̻̫̓̿͋t̴͍͖͉́͌̀.̴̼̞̝̓͝ H̴̠̘̪̓͐̒a̴͖̟̫̾̀͋t̴̝͔̙͋͘͝e̴͎̞͎̐̈́̕d̵̞̙͋͆̿͜ i̸̡̺͖̓͛̾t̵̢̻̟̀̀͐.̵̻͔͚͋̕̕ H̵̫̘͋̐͝a̵͓͚͛͊͠t̴̞͓̝͆͒̿e̴͉̫̘̓͆̿d̵̝̝̻͊̈́ i̵̞̼͕̿̕t̵̡͖̦̐̓̾.̸̠͚̫̽̽͆ H̵̢͖̟̀̒̾a̸͇͍̓̓̽ț̵̼͔͆̈́̔e̵̺̞̪͐̽̕d̴̼̙͓͛̈́͊ ḯ̴͖̚̕͜t̸̼̪͙͋̒͘.̵͙͎͊̒͜͝ H̵͍̝͍̒́͝ä̴̦̝̦́̈́̕T̸̝͉͆̽͝e̸̞̪͊͊̈́d̴̺̙̝͐̿ I̸̫̻͖̐̕͠t̵̺͓͍́̕͘.̸͚̠̠͌͒ h̴̙͔̘͐͛͝A̸͚̼̼̾̚t̸̡͉̫̽͒͘E̴͕̞͋́̚͜d̸͙͚͕̓̿̽ i̸̟̠̦͐̾͆T̴̡͖͊͜͝.̵͕̘̘́̈́͐ h̴͓͓̺͑͝͝À̴̡͍͎͐̕T̸̺̫͔́͐́e̴̟̻̦͊̕͝D̸͖̞̦̔͒̈́ i̴͔̼͔͋͌͝t̵͔̠͖̀͑͐.̵̼͓̼͛̽́ h̵̦̼̻̿̓͒A̴̼͎͇̓͛T̸̻̘͎͛̓̚e̸̝͚̪̽̽̕ I̵̼͔̪̿̒̐t̴͙͇̿͑͌.̵̙͖͔͒̾͝ H̸̙̫͇́́ä̸͇̼́͛͜T̵͖͍̓̒̽e̵̢̻͔̒͌̾.̴̝̠̫͛͘͠ h̸̡͖̠̀̒͝A̴̡̢͍̚͝͠t̴̢͓͔̒̕E̵͍͚͌͠͠.̴̝̦͉̿̕͝ H̴̡̦̼́̓͋ A̴̢͇̓͋̕ T̸̡͔̓͒͜ È̵̢̙͇͋͑.̵̘̟̪̒͝͠ Ḧ̵̘͓́̕͝ A̸̡̺̐̐͘͜ T̸̟̝͑̿͒͜ E̴̢͇͌͜͝.̵̫̝̓͑̚

A scuffle from the living room broke Shuichi from his trance. Sound. Life. And Shuichi quickly bandaged up his left eye and finish brushing his teeth. Shuichi released a breath he didn't know he was holding before he stepped into the living room again; only now, Maki was awake.

The look she gave him made it clear that his little episode in the bathroom didn't go unnoticed. She stared into his eye, her posture much tenser than when he initially woke her up. Before she could open her mouth to question him, Shuichi interrupted her.

"It's just another episode about the Tragedy again. I just had a small relapse. It's nothing major."

Maki only looked more frustrated with his answer. "Nothing is ever minor with you," she rasped out. "I know it still hurts."

Shuichi glanced at her, his back mostly to her as he headed to the kitchen. They both shared a sigh. "As always, Haru. But I'll be okay eventually, so don't worry too much."

Shuichi motion for Maki to help him prepare a pseudo-breakfast for themselves and the other two still asleep. And with practiced ease, they made four plates of omurice. For Himiko, there were apples cut into the shape of bunnies and bell pepper slices with words like "bright" carved onto them lying by the side of the omelet – a courtesy of Maki's knife work. The omelet itself had a smiling face playfully drawn on by Shuichi. For Kibou, his breakfast was decorated with sautéed mushrooms, chopped green onions, and ketchup to create the message of "good luck." For Maki, Shuichi personally wrote "appreciated" while Maki carved out words along the lines of "we'll wait" on Shuichi's slices of bell peppers and cucumbers.

It seemed that the sound of cutting and boiling oil was enough to rouse Kibou from slumber, although not enough to completely wake Himiko. She was half-dragged, half-carried in by Kibou before she was promptly plopped into her chair with a soft whoosh of air. Shuichi greeted them with a smile as he slid their respective plates to them. Maki and Shuichi finally settled into their seats. Soon the sound of clinking tableware filled the quiet apartment.

The rest of the day progressed rather slowly for Shuichi, but he was rather grateful for it. As chaotic as life could be, these slow moments with his siblings made it a bit more bearable. It was the living silence that Shuichi took comfort in. The silent music of heartbeats and breathing, of the shifting of fabric and soft footsteps.

It was only fair that such silence could be so brutally shattered when a shrill ding-dong tone came from a mounted intercom on the roof. [Could Sergeant Saihara please report to the Central HQ? Repeat. Could Sergeant Saihara please report to the Central HQ?]

Shuichi could only flinch at the message. The other three occupants in the room could only give each other disappointed looks while Shuichi could only respond with an apologetic shrug. He gave out a distinctly defeated sigh as he grabbed his keys and pulled on a pair of pure black, leathery combat boots. He didn't bother to change out of his "casual" outfit; his tastes had always leaned on the more formal side, with navy pants that looked deceptively like woolen dress pants, only softer and more flexible, and a grey turtleneck sweater. The only added change was the pants' matching blazer, a black scarf, and a pair of black gloves.

The bullet carrier to the Central HQ was always a cold journey. Mementos spanned the entire Kanto region of Japan underground and were arranged in a gradual temperature gradient to prevent violent winds. The hottest areas transitioning to the coldest, with each polarized area nestled up to another similar climate area. The HQ itself sits in a frigid epicenter, the coldest part where three regions begin and end – a place where Kanto, Chubu, and Tohoku collide. The Central HQ, nicknamed Core. Shuichi could feel the temperature drop as his breathing soon produced mist. When Shuichi arrived at Mementos' edge, he guessed that it may have been a few degrees below zero; he could tell just based on how much he always aches compared to the surface.

As cold as the place is, it was well lit with an intense orange light of the churning pools and channels of magma. It would seem like a living contradiction for such a place to be this cold. It was only possible because of a singular source of energy that they, the betas, have discovered many millennia ago and refused to share. A species of crystal found deep within the Earth's crust beyond the deepest gold mines in the world, one that could turn the energy of heat into another form.

Core's building was an imposing tower as wide as was the World Trade Center before its fall so many years ago and a full kilometer tall. It started from the floor where Shuichi stood and reached up to the ceiling of the underground. An unweathered monolith, even by time's hands.

There were six entrances into Core, each with their own reception desks operated by a person that wore a black hoodie with the hood up, black sweatpants, and some shoes of the same color. Their hands were obscure by their white gloves and their face unidentifiable under a featureless, faceless mask. They spoke not a word when they scanned Shuichi's lapel pins and allowed him in, handing him a holographic card that directed him to the correct floor and room. The Core's secretaries, if you want to call them that, spoke no secrets and revealed nothing.

It was unsettling. Always has been.

Shuichi made his way past the first 119 war room floors, even passed the occupied Warrant Officer floors before arriving at the 200th floor, the last level. The last Warrant Officer floor as well. The story itself was split into three equal pieces around the elevator that Shuichi took to get up: one each for the Land, Sea, and Sky's armed forces. He ignored the doors to the Sea and Sky, heading to the door with the goat symbol he shared.

The person behind the door was a man in his early sixties with short, wispy, grey hair. His white-gloved hands folded calmly on his desk, his back straight, and his brown eyes were sharp and focused solely on Shuichi. The man looked Shuichi directly in the eye, neither a flinch nor a twitch of his face. He was dressed in the Japanese betas' army uniform. A heavy, double-breasted, black greatcoat with silver, snap-on rivets hung over his large frame. On the coat's upper left sleeve was a single white band that represented his rank. The coat almost completely swallowed up the man's white, button-up shirt and the dark green tie around his collar.

The man stood up from his chair and walked towards the window behind him, motioning Shuichi to follow. The action revealed the white silhouette emblem of the Japanese serow. He was wearing black pants tucked into equally black boots that hardly made a noise as he walked.

"Sergeant Saihara reporting, Officer Iwata," Shuichi said. Iwata turned and nodded at him.

As Iwata turned his gaze back to the magma pools that powered the three regions that Core connected, he asked solemnly, "Do you know why you are here, Saihara-san?"

"No, sir." Shuichi shook his head slowly. "Although, I assume it must be about the two bodies of the alphas I killed."

Iwata turned to his left to face Shuichi, the orange glow outside lighting up only half his face and leaving the other half shadowed. "Partly."

Shuichi raised an eyebrow before Iwata continued, "You are by no means in the wrong, but tensions are rising overhead." The older man let out a tired sigh. "It would be best for you to monitor the situation above for an indefinite amount of time, and we just so happen to receive a contract requesting you."

Shuichi clenched his hands. "When do I have to leave?"

"By tomorrow at 6:30, so I suggest you pack soon and be ready for departure within the next ten hours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't understand why this chapter was so hard to write. Nothing came to me, and to be honest, I'm still not satisfied with it. But, it'll have to do.


	6. Departure, Say Hello to DICE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shuichi's Lullaby - Safe and Sound (Japanese Cover): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_HmPrvpYEeE

The ride home from Core was a tense silence. Shuichi knew that it was inevitable that he would be contracted again like everyone else from his rank code of OR-5 to those just under the Warrant Officers at OR-8. Some contractors were kind while others were not, and he doesn't know how good his luck was this time. It was times like these he wished that his mentors were still around to talk to, but they weren't. Not anymore; that was just the fate of all soldiers.

Shuichi sighed through his nose as he gazed out at the passing scenery of Mementos, watching as vast wintery fields gave way to forests. His mind never stopped for a second as he compiled a list of items to take with him: three copies of his military uniform, his military greatcoat, boots to match the uniforms, his weapons, five replicas of his more casual clothes with his winter accessories and summer shoes, and his immunosuppressants…Why was there a sense that he forgot something?

His left side flared up in pain. It felt like cold pins and needles at first before slowly warming up until it burned. It felt like needles hooked up to an electric generator because of how badly his limbs were spazzing. It was a feeling like a second-degree burn, just before your nerves are left burnt and forever numb.

Oh, yeah…painkillers. Shuichi had forgotten that on that mental list of his. 

Shuichi subconsciously leaned his entire weight on his right side and closed his eyes, grinding his teeth as he waited for the pain to pass. His heart pounded in panic, rattling his head with how loud it seemed. Inhale and hold. Exhale slowly. Repeat.

The burning eventually died down into an all too familiar aching as the bullet carrier's intercom announced his stop. Shuichi opened his eyes and shook himself off before stepping onto the thick pillar's platform that connected the roof to the floor. The faint yellow glow of the transparent energy platforms carried cargo and people alike up and down the monolith, with Shuichi standing on one of them.

He didn't felt right that he had to leave his family behind with no end confirmed. He could only imagine the disappointed and worried looks he'll receive once he tells them. The walk back to his home wasn't as high-spirited as it was much earlier today; even with the beta's anthem resounding in the caverns, Shuichi maintained a somber silence.

When he entered the apartment again, there were no greetings. Maki, Kibou, and Himiko all looked at him in anticipation. Their eyes were bright and alert, almost glowing because of how light-reflective their tapetum lucida were – a specialized layer of tissue within their eyes that enable a beta's night vision.

The three were sitting on the grey, L-shaped couch again. The ever-faithful place for late-night, heart-to-hearts, Shuichi thought wryly to himself.

Shuichi couldn't delay telling them, and so he did. "Hey… I'm going to be gone for a while again."

Disappointment shined in their eyes, the color of each growing the smallest bit duller, but they asked no questions or protested. There was simply no point.

"Haru," Shuichi called, getting Maki to hold her head just a bit higher. "You're going to be in charge of the team until I get back."

Shuichi made a move to start packing, and everyone else got up to assist him. Maki grabbed Shuichi's medications and medical supplies, Kibou gathered his clothing, and Himiko collected his weapons. As for Shuichi, he went to get a brown-strapped watch with a grey casing. He seems to be syncing it with his lapel pins as they pulsed in a faint white glow on Kibou's bunk bed, just below his own.

Shuichi slowly tapped the items he wanted to bring with him to the watch, allowing them to dissolve into numerous light particles and be absorbed into the clock face. The first to be packed away was the three copies of Shuichi's military uniform: a soft, long-sleeved, white buttoned-up shirt; heavy black pants with an unbuckled, grey metal belt that was attached to two simple, over-the-shoulders, black suspenders by four steel clasps; a pair of white gloves and soft socks; and a black, long, and weighty strip of cloth with the image of three intertwining snakes at one of the tails of the fabric. Of course, Shuichi pulled off the military boots and scarf he was already wearing to atomize it along with his greatcoat. The pair of brown boots and the muffler he had worn during his Christmas patrol would be what he was pulling on before his departure.

The next things to pack away were four copies of his more casual outfits: a business casual looking mix of white long sleeve, button-up shirts, and solid grey sweaters; some of the softest and densest dress pants Kibou has ever held; a pair of brown leather loafers for the summer; and some blazers and coats.

Amongst the last thing Shuichi finally pack was the extensive medical supplies that Maki handed to him. It ranged from materials required for battlefield surgery to more mundane items like his immunosuppressants and painkillers. Then the unconcealable, active combat weapons much too massive and intimidating to carry in public were transported away – stored in a secure containment facility somewhere in the Marianas Trench. Nothing ever comes out without Shuichi's say so.

Shuichi soon pulled on the black overcoat from before and clipped on several holsters to his brown belt. He slipped two handguns and two knives, one on each side of his back, allowing the overcoat to obscure them. Shuichi then finally strapped the watch to his right wrist.

Everything was finally packed away with only enough time for Shuichi to take a quick power nap to help him transition. But he didn't feel the pull of sleep, and, from the looks in his younger siblings' eyes, neither was anyone else. Shuichi wanted to make his goodbye count. He'll stay for as long as he could.

Wordlessly, he motioned for everyone to gather on the couch for a more solemn remix of this afternoon. They pressed into him as tightly as his scars would allow before Shuichi started to sing them a soft lullaby.

_ Anata no hikari wo kage ga ooi-kakushite mo _

_ (Even if shadows cover your light,) _

_ Kono te wa hanasanai yo _

_ (I won't let go of your hand.) _

_ "Hitori ni shinaide" to sakenda kedo _

_ ("You're not alone," I will scream if I must.)  _

_ Kiki wa mou sugi-satta _

_ (The pain is over now.) _

Shuichi brushed Kibou's bangs from his eyes before rubbing slow circles on his back. Kibou, in turn, leaned his head on Shuichi's shoulder.

_ Ne-nasai hi ga kureru yo _

_ (Sleep now that the sun's going down.) _

_ Daijoubu kowakunai yo _

_ (It's all okay, so don't be afraid.) _

_ Asa ni wa, futari wa buji yo _

_ (When morning comes, we'll be alright.) _

Maki's eyes burned with determination, and their eyes met in an unspoken promise. _Come back safely_ , she pleaded. He squeezed Maki's hand and answers, _I will._

_ Mado no soto ni moeru hi wo minaide _

_ (Don't look at the inferno outside.) _

_ Arasoi bakari tsuzuku kono uta wo daite _

_ (Hold onto this lullaby for as long as this war last,) _

_ Tatoe oto ga naku natte shimatte mo _

_ (Even when my voice is gone.) _

Shuichi brushed his cheek against the top of Himiko's head as Himiko pressed her ear to his heart, a shaky rhythm but real.

_ Ne-nasai hi ga kureru yo _

_ (Sleep now that the sun is going down.) _

_ Daijoubu kowakunai yo _

_ (It's all okay, so don't be afraid.) _

_ Asa ni wa, futari wa buji yo _

_ (When morning comes, we'll be alright.) _

Shuichi started to hum; it rumbled deeply in his chest as a mock purr. It lingered in the air before he started singing again, his voice a mere whisper.

_ Ne-nasai hi ga kureru yo _

_ (Sleep now that the sun is going down.) _

_ Daijoubu kowakunai yo _

_ (It's all okay, don't be afraid.) _

_ Asa ni wa, futari wa buji yo _

_ (When morning comes, we'll be alright.) _

Shuichi hugged them tightly, and they returned the gesture just as tightly. He didn't want to let go, so he didn't. At least, not for now.

~~~~~

Officer Iwata had neglected to mention who contracted him, but Shuichi already knew who it was: Ouma Kokichi. There was hardly anyone who wanted to recruit a crippled soldier. Despite the omega's reputation for being an enigma, he did a shitty job hiding his interest in Shuichi. He remembered the much smaller man sizing him up the entire time. Shuichi wondered aimlessly what could have possibly caused Kokichi to be interested in him but came up with nothing but a headache. Maybe the lack of proper sleep was finally getting to him.

He shelved the thought for later when his body wasn't rebelling against him and pulled his hand from the bottom of the train to check the watch face. The digitally projected, analog clock face told Shuichi that it was 5:53.

"Map." Upon Shuichi's singular word, the clock face shifted into a map, labeling the location and coordinates of where he'd be meeting Kokichi. It was at Hope's Peak Academy in Bunkyo City, Tokyo. The most prestigious academy in all of Japan for those from high school to college. In all honesty, it was a good landmark and – if the rumors were true – a part of Kokichi's recent past.

"Time." The watch returned to its unassuming appearance as the train finally stopped in Bunkyo City. Shuichi quietly detached himself from it before slipping silently into the shadows. He felt so self-conscious and couldn't help but tug his fedora down further as the people around whispered.

"Yoooooo, that guy looks sus as hell." "All betas are like that. They can't wear bright clothes."

"Are you kidding me? He's a police officer?" "You'd think our government has some standards."

"Mommy, who's that?" "No one, sweetheart. Don't look at them."

They don't even realize he could hear them. They never do. All Shuichi could do is ignore it. It could be worse, so he shrugged the comments off as best he could and kept his eyes straight ahead. 

The walk to Hope's Peak from the subways wasn't long, and it seemed that Shuichi arrived just in time. He could see Kokichi casually leaning on his crutches near the brick walls surrounding Hope's Peak and playing on his phone. A quick glance at his watch told Shuichi that it was 6:19.

Shuichi was never the type to call attention to himself and decided to stand next to Kokichi until the other man decides it's time to look up. It was about a good ten minutes of complete silence asides from the music of whatever game Kokichi played on his phone before he looked up.

It was so swift that if Shuichi wasn't so observant, he would have missed how Kokichi flinched. "Seems like mister SSS isn't very talkative, standing there like a creep for ten minutes or so~."

"Hello, Ouma-san," Shuichi answered. He ignored the fact that Kokichi called him a creep or that he caught the smaller off guard. "I suppose we're leaving, correct?"

Kokichi rocked back and forth on his crutches; it seemed like he would lose his balance. "Yup, yup, yup~."

His prediction proves correct as Kokichi does slip on the walk to wherever Kokichi was taking him, although Shuichi did grab Kokichi by the shoulder. Shuichi could feel the little CEO tense up briefly before Kokichi quickly relaxed his body as the soldier steadied him. Shuichi's touch didn't linger, leaving the moment he was sure that the smaller man wouldn't slip on the icy road.

The walk to what Shuichi could only assume to be DICE's headquarters or wherever Kokichi was taking him was a relatively short ten minutes if it wasn't for Kokichi's hobbling slowing them down. The entire time Kokichi was chittering away at whatever seemed to have caught his train of thought, Shuichi nodded his head along. Shuichi could pick up a slight discomfort in Kokichi's eyes at his silence, but Shuichi did not feel the need to grow close to his "employer."

The building they arrived at was a beautifully built structure. It was a tall building with about fifteen floors from Shuichi's estimate with pristine white walls and pure black windows. It seemed like a chessboard in design and appearance, much like the scarf Kokichi was currently wearing.

The interior of the building seemed no different. At least at first. The main entrance was the same sleek, checkerboard design for the floor tiles with clinical white walls and a flat, oppressive black roof. The front desk faced the sliding double doors that the two had entered from was white with a black marble top. That was the first impression of the building.

Kokichi hobbled to the elevator, and Shuichi followed him. They entered the elevator, where Kokichi selected the topmost floor. The elevator ride was mostly silent, and Shuichi honestly preferred that, with only the whir of the gears and wires that pulled them up. Stepping into the floor that Kokichi selected was a jarring experience for Shuichi; he doesn't really know what to expect from the eccentric man beside him. Still, Shuichi hadn't anticipated the floor to look like a cross between a proper office and what a kid imagined a secret lab would look like.

It was surprisingly colorful, with a lot of colored lights hanging around. The floors and walls were predominately a professional black. There was white accenting the DICE logo behind what Shuichi could only call a purple and black throne, and it sat in front of an equally large white semicircle desk. One wall hung many types of equipment that Shuichi could see contains anything from gag items to half-completed prototypes, and across from that wall to the other side was a wall lined with shelves and boxes. Shuichi had picked out the unmistakable blue roll of blueprints and various files with a variety of stamps from the shelves.

Shuichi took the entire scene before him. He resisted the urge to turn his head around to scan the room. Instead, keeping his face turned towards the most visually unusual items on what Shuichi dubbed "Ouma-san's Gag Wall," that being the giant assortment of clown masks, and keeping his fedora low enough to hide the movement of his eye. Kokichi was a seller and manufacturer of medical equipment, and some of the blueprints of the other wall may prove useful if Mementos has the right materials to construct it. All Shuichi needs is a better look.

Yet Shuichi decides for now to bide his time. He doesn't know how long this contract will last, and for as long as it does, he must abide by the will of his contractor. Shuichi would rather not upset his position here too much until he has a clearer picture of what he could covertly do. Shuichi knows full well that Kokichi is frighteningly intelligent; he had to be if Hope's Peak willingly named him the Ultimate Supreme Leader. But if there was one thing Shuichi knows better than anyone, it was his own limitations.

Shuichi turns his full attention back to Kokichi's Gag Wall, purposefully taking in all the small, minute details until…

"Hello~, y'know it's rude to ignore your employer."

Kokichi called to get his attention. He wasn't about to give away his biggest secret so easily.

"Yes, Ouma-san?" Shuichi asked, his tone was light and polite as he turned his face to his employer.

Kokichi puffed out his cheek childishly again before folding his arms and blowing the breath out, only this time, there was a much more serious look to his face. This was the face of Ouma Kokichi that Shuichi anticipated to show itself; after all, you can't run a multi-billion company without respect.

"Before we really begin, I'll be laying down the laws, and you're going to listen," Kokichi drawled as he stepped up to his throne and plopped down. He raised his right hand and lifted his pointer finger. "Number 1: Whatever I say goes. If I command you to do something, say…kill someone, you do it without questioning me."

Shuichi only nodded at this. This was the most common baseline established by his contractors, although there was an unseen grimace under his brown scarf.

"Number 2: No matter what, you will not harm a member of DICE," Kokichi announced as he lifted a second finger, waving the hand to emphasize this point. "And finally, Number 3: You will be serving DICE as much as you serve me. Their requests are mine unless I say so. Got it~?" 

Kokichi folded his hand against his chin as he set his ultimatums. Shuichi could only breathe a soundless sigh from his nose as he nodded, acknowledging the conditions placed on him. The leash around his neck is quite tight, but this wasn't the worst deal. Kokichi's words are law, but what has been left unsaid is still on the table for now, and that small bit of freedom is all that Shuichi will need for now.

"Understood, Ouma-san."

~~~~~

After the rather tense exchange of conditions between them, Kokichi seems to decide that it was the perfect time to call up his most trusted staff to introduce Shuichi. From what Shuichi could gather, these appeared to be the people he'd be taking orders from if Kokichi was busy.

It didn't take long for the room to slowly fill up with very unfamiliar faces. The most notable were four people simply because they chose to stand side-by-side with Kokichi behind his desk, the rest of the staff stood in two rows to the side of the table and faced the center, the place where Shuichi stood. Among the four was Rantaro to Kokichi's immediate right. Next to Rantaro was a blond, blue-eyed woman with a rather sultry swagger to her step. To Kokichi's immediate left was a foreign, white-haired woman of Polynesian descent with dark skin and blue eyes. Next to her stood a midget of a man wearing a black, cat-eared hat that barely reached Shuichi's waist in height, just barely peeking over Kokichi's desk.

“Say hello to DICE, Saihara-chan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got writer's block for Chapter 7, but this chapter was finally finished. So why not publish it?


End file.
